


Lie to Me

by DeadNation666



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Choking, Drug Use, Hero Worship, Impersonation, Implied emotional/psychological abuse, Infidelity, Love Triangles, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadNation666/pseuds/DeadNation666
Summary: A serendipitous meeting turns into something something more complicated entirely.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Timothy Lawrence, Timothy Lawrence/Rhys
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	1. Beginner's Luck

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time, so be gentle. ;)

It was set to be a mildly interesting day for the programming department on Helios station; an assembly was scheduled to break up the grueling, monotonous workweek, and they were set to be getting some kind of productivity award. As he sat on the tram to another block of offices, Rhys reckoned that his recent move to the Helios branch contributed at least in part to their improved numbers, so he was feeling extra confident. Besides, who wouldn’t want to work on Helios station, so close to the Handsome Jack himself? Hell, just thinking about moving his office a galaxy closer to the charismatic CEO had been what got him through those last few months back at the Crius central branch, and now he’d made it. It wasn’t without sacrifice-- mostly other people’s-- but it was worth it. Even the air smelled classier up here. Maybe that was just the climate control. Regardless, it smelled less like a chilly industrial city center and more like a sweet-ass space station should, clean, crisp and sanitized, despite the fact that the place was always friggin’ crowded. From the hub, where throngs of tourists mobbed shops and infotainment centers, to the densely-packed offices, there had to be at least a couple people for every 10 square feet. Even today, mid-shift, there were bunches of people in the hallways, streaming through the station’s passages like orderly ants in an anthill. Rhys and his group of coworkers hustled through the bustling mob, making their way to whichever presentation room they were told to report to. Nobody really stopped to talk up here, any chatter Rhys could hear was random people recording into or yelling at ECHO devices; everyone was busy, busy, busy, just like always on Helios. It seemed like Rhys was one of a lucky few to get something like a break today. 30 minutes of it, actually. In this exact presentation room.

It was dark, there was a holoprojector’s idle image flickering a blue “your presentation will begin shortly” in the front of the room, people filed in and took seats on the black and yellow vinyl folding seats and waited. And waited. This was bizarre, people weren’t usually late to these sorts of things, they’d have hell to pay somewhere down the line. You’d have to be pretty damn important to get away with tardiness.

About five minutes after Rhys took his seat, the door handle rattled, unlocked, rattled again, unlocked the _right_ way this time, and the door swung open. As the projector started to play a jingle, in strode none other than Handsome Jack. The man himself, in his usual mismatching but somehow good-looking outfit, the angular features of his mask stark and striking in the bluish light of the projector. Rhys was wholly, completely awestruck, he had no idea he’d be so lucky to meet his idol, his hero, on just some random Friday, but here he was, right in front of Rhys, his very presence making his heart do some kind of rapid calisthenics routine in his ribcage. He took in the view of Jack’s gorgeous silhouette, his powerful shoulders, his trim waist, his commanding, electrifying presence… Jack was only shuffling papers.

Jack cleared his throat, and as the presentation graphics on the hologram began to roll, he faked enthusiasm as he rattled off some routine, objectively boring speech that, with just the impact of his cadence and charm, left Rhys wholly mesmerised. He barely even comprehended the details as his brain melted under the smoldering hotness of Jack’s rehearsed radio voice. He could feel his face flushing as the talk went on. Damn, he wished he’d sat in the front row. 

“Let’s see, last item on our list here… Department Employee of the Month! Here we go, you guys probably actually give a shit about this one. Helen Warner! Congrats! Come get your piece’a paper, sweet cheeks.” Jack waved a sturdy certificate in the air as some lady Rhys had barely ever seen excitedly shuffled up and shook Jack’s hand. He figured she must work in one of the other offices. He also wondered what it was like to shake his hand...

“Honorable mentions go to… Leon Wang and… how the hell do you pronounce that? Reeze? Rice? Rhys? Strong...fork?”

Rhys audibly squeaked. A couple of people looked at him… including Jack. Oh god, those eyes, they made Rhys’s heart stop.

“Yeah, you, third row, with the ECHOeye, right?” Jack tapped the side of his head where Rhys’s port was and pointed at him. “How’d’you say your name? I’m curious now.” Jack said with a curiously cocked eyebrow and a smile that made Rhys freeze for a second.

“R-rhys, it’s like… ‘ree-ss,’ sir.” Rhys clarified, heart finally pounding in his chest again, making awkward eye contact with the suave CEO. 

“So what’s the story with your last name, too? It’s kinda bizarre.” Jack raised the other brow and tilted his head at his papers.  
“Oh, uh, I mean my dad gave it to me when I was born, I dunno.” Rhys shrugged, sort of put on the spot with all the questions and the awkwardness and the glaring, molten sex appeal of the man who was talking to him. A couple people chuckled. Jack even smiled, which sent Rhys’s stomach into somersaults.

“You’re alright, kiddo. Grat’s on the performance review, people, keep up the triple-A work ethic and you all get to see me again next quarter!” Jack held out his arms to the little crowd amicably, flashing one of those famous pearly-white smiles and what Rhys swore was a wink in his direction, but the lights had switched on just as it happened, so maybe he was just seeing things. The ECHOeye tended to do weird things while adjusting to light, artifacting and all that… But it was nice to imagine it was real. Rhys was just entirely in a daze.

As people started to shuffle out of the presentation room, Rhys lingered in his seat, too starstruck to move. While Jack sifted through a manila folder, Rhys gazed dreamily at the CEO while his direct boss was being handed the performance award a second time. He stared at Jack’s hand, just with them holding the certificate they looked so powerful, so disproportionately large, and it wasn’t like Jack’s arms were in any way dainty. It would have made Rhys wonder what the rest of him looked like, if those raunchy pin-up ads and risque calendars the company put out from time to time weren’t all saved on his computer or decorating the walls of his cubicle and bedroom. Rhys watched as Jack shook his boss’s hand nice and firmly, patting him on the shoulder almost dismissively. What a friggin’ smug bastard, Rhys loved it. He may not have gotten a piece of paper, but he did catch Jack’s eye once again after everyone had cleared out of the room, probably from his lingering and staring. Even better. He froze, blushing, as the handsome executive strode casually over and leaned on an adjacent chair.

“What’s up, kiddo, d’you glue your ass to the seat or did you want somethin’ from me?” Jack quipped.

“Oh, uh, ah, so, you were a programmer before you were, um, CEO, and all, so I was wondering, um…”

“If you’re trying to ask me out, I’m not available until next week.” Jack said, rather plainly joking. Rhys went red as a beet.

“Wait, don’t tell me you were actually gonna ask me out. Were you?” Jack said, cocking an eyebrow.

“I mean, no, I-I-I was gonna ask what you’d do to get employee of the month, but if that involves going out with you, I mean, it’s-- not what I was expecting but--”

“Listen, I gotta go, but take my office number. We’ll talk over my lunch break.” Jack said, practically soothing in his tone. He jotted down an ECHO tag and patted it into Rhys’s palm, shooing him out of the room. Rhys felt like he’d just been injected with hot sauce and overly caffeinated butterflies. Lunch with Handsome Jack… imagine that. Rhys hardly could.

“Handsome Jack’s office, Meg speaking.”

“Hello, this is Rhys Strongfork, uh, Jack told me to contact him over lunch break?”

“One moment please.”

“Alright, but I only have--” Before he could lament about his three minute lunch break, he heard hold music. Not but 15 seconds later the music stopped.

“Handsome Jack here.”

“This is Rhys Strongfork from data mining.” Rhys managed not to stammer.

There was a short pause. “Who?”

“Rhys Strongfork, uh, y-you gave me this number after a performance review?” His mouth was suddenly super dry.

“Oh yeah! Listen, I told your boss that you have a meeting in-- let’s say however long it takes you to get to Coquet from your office.”

“Where?” Rhys hadn’t heard of such a place but in passing.

“Coquet bistro. We’re doing lunch. Today is boring and you’re gonna give me something fun to do. See you in fifteen. It’s in shopping sector 16-A.” Damn, Rhys thought. He was pretty sure that was a really fancy sector.

“O-o-okay, uh, awesome, see you soon!” The call ended, Jack didn’t say goodbye, or awkwardly say “love ya” like Rhys accidentally did to his boss back on Crius that one time. If he had, the embarrassment might have killed him right there in this cubicle. Rhys hustled through the hallways, checking his hair in the reflection of his ECHOtablet. Looked fine. Fantastic. But his face was embarrassingly red. Hopefully that would sort itself by the time he got to the shopping sectors.

Rhys checked the time. It was too early to tell if he was being stood up, but he was worried. It was five minutes past the time they’d agreed on. And, well, come on, he was some random guy and Handsome Jack was… well, Handsome Jack. He couldn’t get it out of his head just how lucky he was, even just getting to see him, then speak with him, and at the very least get his feelings toyed with by him, maybe even have lunch-- practically a date, right?-- with _Handsome Jack_. Finally, he spotted a little mob of people with Jack’s signature coif of amazing hair poking up over most of them. He was chatting with about three different people, patting some dude on the shoulder to wrap up his talk as he approached the door, his face turning from chummy and amicable to flat and distant as he looked around the restaurant for Rhys. He seemed to brighten as a warm half-smile spread across his face when he spotted Rhys.

“Can you believe this? Paparazzi won’t leave me the hell alone. Some people, man.” Jack shook his head as he took a seat across from Rhys. “Had to sneak away from my security and bam, they swarm. That’s why I chose this place! _I_ can walk right in, but _they_ don’t have reservations like you did, lucky lucky.”

“You can go pretty much wherever you want, huh? No reservations needed?” Rhys asked.

“Well, yeah, I own the friggin’ space station, I can pretty much do whatever. I could-- hah, never mind. How’s my favorite rookie employee of the month?”  
“I mean, I didn’t win--”

“You can’t for your first year on the station, it’s to keep cohesion and synergy with your team nice’n high.” Jack said, waving his hand as if to say “it’s bullshit but it works.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Did, uh, you ever get employee of the month?” Rhys asked.

“Oh, yeah of course. Wh-- like, why even ask?” Jack said, gesturing to the bartender and mouthing something, then nodding with a thumbs up.  
“I’m still on about uh, gunning for the award.”

“Well, it’s easy if you’re brilliant and awesome like me. Or if, heh, you know what strings to pull.”

“Are you saying I’d get where I wanna to go through _underhanded means_ , sir? I’m shocked. Shocked and appalled.” Rhys joked. Anyone who’s anyone on Helios had pulled strings to get to where they were, and everyone knew it. A waitress set a couple drinks on the table.

“Oh, hah, you know how it is, kiddo! It’s tough out there, but you know it’s worth it. And you can just call me Jack.” Jack said. Rhys’s heart leapt. 

“I-- I can?” Rhys was honored, he tried to hide his bashful glow by sipping his drink. It was pretty good, whatever it was.

“Of course you can! Cute lil’ number like you can call me lots'a things. But-- hah, see, there I go, flirting with employees, when will ol’ Jack learn? Probably never.” He laughed into his own drink, relaxing in his chair. He smiled at Rhys, setting his drink back on the table and just sat there, looking pretty, looking _at_ someone pretty, who was looking at him being pretty, for a silent moment or two.

“What were we even talkin’ about, pumpkin?” Jack shook his head with a silly grin. “Oh, oh yeah, advice! Listen, I’ll level with ya’. If your numbers from down on Crius aren’t fudged in any meaningful way, you don’t even _need_ my advice. See, we’re two of a kind, you and me. Geniuses, and good-looking ones at that. My advice to you? Fake it ‘til you make it. Act like the boss you wanna be, and you’ll get there, trust me. You got _it_ , kid, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, yeah, I catch your drift, boss. I just need, like… Confidence? Right?”

“Exactly! Just don’t get too cocky to get a target on your back, and it’ll be smooth sailing for you, baby! Oh, and three letters for ya, on the side. C-Y-A.”

“Cover Your Ass? Oh yeah, I know that one.” Rhys said, already feeling a bit confident. He knew stuff!

“It really is essential up here. More than anywhere else worth talking about. God, where is our _food?_ ”

“Did we even--” Before Rhys could say “order”, Jack was whistling for the waitress, beckoning her over and rattling off an order so fast Rhys couldn’t quite catch it. He gave her a thumbs up and turned back to his unofficial date.

“Waitstaff these days. Pssh. Don’t they know I got places to be? You like a good sandwich, right? And salad? I ordered for you. You’ll love it.”

“Yeah, alright, sounds good.” Rhys did like a good sandwich, and a good salad. He liked ranch dressing, but this seemed more like a blue-cheese kinda establishment.

“Trust me, I have fantastic taste, and so do these sandwiches. I picked this place for a reason.”

“Definitely wasn’t the affordability, huh?” Rhys joked.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, pumpkin, it’s my treat, of course!” Jack produced a credit card from who-knows-where. Probably had a custom storage deck just to do that. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone, with a flick of the wrist. Rhys was mesmerised, mostly by Jack’s impressively big hands. Those things looked like they could crush cantaloupes.

“Anyways, anyways, you wanted to know about my employee of the month escapades?”

“Escapades? I thought you just earned them based on performance.”

“Oh, no no no, pumpkin, there’s a story behind every one, lemme tell ya...”

About halfway through a rambling yet gripping story about an ongoing rivalry with a hot secretary, what was meant to be a three-hour tour to an uncharted island, lots of intrigue, and an experimental shotgun, the food came. Was Jack a mind reader? No, couldn’t have been, Rhys wouldn’t have even thought to order this, but it was so good. Who would think to make dressing with avocado? And the sandwich was toasted to perfection. Or was it grilled? Rhys didn’t care. It was hot. So was Jack. Rhys ate up his meal _and_ his view of his dreamy boss as he regaled him with his tale of corporate derring-do.

“And so I tell the guy, ‘all-nighter? I hardly knew her!’ But seriously, I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a week. I’m sure you know how it is to sleep on your desk, right? You’re a smart cookie, you probably have a pillow just in case.”

“I uh, usually just fold up my vest. That’s only happened a couple times, though.”

“Oh yeah, you’ll get used to it. Trust me, buy a neck pillow and one of those fleece blankets. They make ‘em with my face on ‘em! I have like 20 just in my Helios apartment. You should come up and see ‘em some time.”

“Really? You’re inviting me? To your apartment?” Rhys asked, in disbelief.

“Sure, why not, HR can suck my dick.” Jack said, casual as anything. “Anyways, so I get back to the Space Vixens, and _man_ , are they ever--” Just then, Jack’s wristwatch started beeping. “Shit, I gotta go, I had to be on the tram five minutes ago. Here’s my real number. Shoot me an ECHO and I’ll hit you back after work. Kayseeyabye!” 

And just like that, Jack was gone, leaving only a holographic business card with another ECHOtag, different from the last one. The card glowed bright gold from the shiny little stainless steel hologram emitter, and it listed an office, and to Rhys’s pleasant surprise, a personal number. Jack’s face was emblazoned on it, right above the Hyperion logo.

“Let’s see… plug into ECHO drive.” Rhys said, examining the tiny text on the bottom of the card. “I wonder if I could…” Rhys plucked off some casing on the emitter, looked it over, and stuck it in his head port. With an oddly pleasant tingling sensation, his ECHOeye turned on automatically, displaying the message, “Contacts updated.” He immediately pulled out his tablet, checked the updated list, and shot a message to the new contact he quickly updated to display as “Handsome Jack,” with a yellow heart emoji next to his name.


	2. Behind the Veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [NSFW chapter warning] This chapter contains s u c c. thank u

After a long day of handing out quarterly accolades and shaking hands, Timothy Lawrence returned to Jack’s office, flopping onto the couch and peering over at his faceclaim, who was smiling smugly at his handsome body double.

“Long day at work, Timtams?” Jack, the real one, teased.

“You tell me, you were neck deep in something important when I clocked in.” Tim said, yawning and sprawling out on the settee. He kicked off his shoes, sore and tired.

“It’s not that late, Tim, come on.” Jack said, glancing at his watch and giving him a look.

“My day’s over in like fifteen minutes but I’m ahead of--”

“Your day’s over when I say it’s over.” Jack said, mock-threateningly. Tim was intimidated regardless, he swallowed hard and his quest to get comfy was halted as he stiffened his shoulders.

“Yeah, but you said before--”

“Ahp-up-up. Listen, Tim.” Jack cocked an eyebrow and stared Tim down with intent. “I got somethin’ for you to do and I don’t think you’ll be complaining when you hear what it is.” Jack’s tone had shifted from dangerous to lewd in the span of the sentence.

“Wh-what? Oh, Jack, come on, I just sat down.” Timothy whined, obediently loping over to the desk regardless. Jack lounged swaggeringly in his chair, pressing a couple of buttons to summon a spidery arm to administer a fat hit of dopamine directly into his neck. He sighed pleasurably, running a hand through Tim’s hair as the double settled down on his knees. He knew exactly what Jack wanted, and it wasn’t like he was gonna say no. He liked to see Jack happy, and if that meant sucking him off under his desk, he’d damn well do his best. Jack grasped his loyal doppelganger’s chin firmly, slipping his thumb between his soft lips, feeling a bit gooey inside as Tim gave the digit a little suck with that ingratiating, doe-eyed look on his pretty face. Jack leaned down and gave him a rough kiss.

“God _damn_ , I love you, Tim.” Jack purred, relaxing back in his big important chair and fumbling with his fly.

“I love you too, Jack.” Tim said, looking away shyly. There was something about Tim’s deferent, bashful attitude combined with looking like… well, himself. A carbon copy, if he kept his mask on, which he knew well enough to do. Tim tenderly stroked Jack’s thigh as he withdrew his dick. Then, like clockwork, Tim began his boyfriendly duties. He went about it exactly as enthusiastically as Jack liked it, gagging minimally despite his whole throat being stuffed full. Little moans escaped his mouth, vibrating down Jack’s impressive length as they looked at each other, lovingly, but in a decidedly lopsided sense. Tim licked, sucked and slurped diligently, maintaining eye contact but to squeeze them shut or roll them back, only to have his hair tugged back gently but punitively.

“Eyes up here, kitten.” Jack purred, tilting Tim’s spit-slicked chin upwards, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Tim nodded gently, gazing obediently up at Jack.

“That’s it, lemme see those pretty eyes.” Jack ran his hand through Tim’s hair, taming the tousled, messy locks back to something like neatness. He smiled down at him, looking smug as Tim’s piercing mismatched eyes looked up at him as tears began to form in their corners. Things had been like this for a couple years now, but Tim still had a bit of trouble not tearing up when Jack’s dick was crammed down his throat. It was a natural response, but he felt self conscious about it. Jack, on the other hand, thought it was kinda hot. He loved it when people were overwhelmed by his size. He leaned forwards, simultaneously rummaging through a drawer and shoving Tim’s face into his crotch, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, one of the chair’s spindly utility arms offering him a light as he leaned back again, getting _very_ comfortable as he took a long, relaxed drag. Tim took the opportunity to breathe again.

“It’s good to have you around on days like this, Tim.” Jack observed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “You know, I dunno what I’d even do without you.” He gave his double a little tousle of his hair as he kept at it, maintaining eye contact and everything. Tim pulled himself off the dick with a wet _pop_ , and gave the shaft a good, solid lick, his soft lips mouthing at the tip.

“Well, I sure wouldn’t be here without you, Jack.” He said, before stuffing his face with dick again.

“You wouldn’t-- oh fuck that’s good, don’t stop.” Jack’s conversational tone quickly faltered to something more primal, more raw. He ran a hand through his own hair, flustered. “Ah, you’re so good, Tim, baby, keep going.” Now Tim was properly turned on. He loved it when Jack actually praised him, it was pretty much his favorite thing, at least right now. He shifted in place as he felt his pants grow tighter. He did as Jack told him, blinking slowly up at him as he was praised, his hair stroked and grabbed, the hairspray-supported structure worked out of it by Jack's busy hands. 

“Look at you, baby, you look so good like this… You look so good regardless but _man…_ oop, remember, look up at me, Tim, attaboy.” Jack said, flashing Tim one of his famous smiles and tousling his hair again. Tim did as he was told, putting on his best puppy-dog eyes in an attempt to look all innocent despite a mouthful of cock. He hummed inquisitively, and Jack smiled at him with approval.

“Good boy, Tim.”

Rhys arrived home at the usual time. He kicked off his heely skag-skin shoes and stripped off his vest and tie as he strode through the dark living room, hanging them up in their appropriate place next to his two other identical vests and ties on his door coat rack. He flopped back on his tiny, narrow bed, relaxing his shoulders into the cheap, stiff foam. Today had been stressful, to be sure, every day was. But wow, had it ever been exciting. He’d met Handsome Jack. _The_ Handsome Jack. _Twice_ . Had lunch with him! And lunch was amazing. Not just because he got to drink on his lunch break-- and the drink was great. Not just because the food was incredible-- bonus points for his allowed eating time being more than 2 minutes, 5 on Fridays. Plus, the sandwich was so, so good. Not just because Jack had paid for what had to have been a hell of a bill-- he’d glimpsed him at the counter before he disappeared, but he had been mobbed by people again, and Rhys didn’t want to throw elbows in such a fancy place just to get to him. Rhys hadn’t seen hide nor hair of a charge on his credit app, either. But he’d have paid. For the chance to spend time with Handsome Jack? He’d take out a damn _loan_ . He felt like they had chemistry, too, which blew his mind. All those online tests regarding his compatibility with celebrities that he’d thrown just so he’d get the answer he wanted? They were right, he _was_ a match with his hero. He had to slap himself to see if he was having one of his Jack dreams. Ow. Probably should have used his flesh arm for that. But on the plus side, he somehow wasn’t dreaming. 

_Well, then._

He might have fantasized about dating Jack, like, a lot, but he’d never really planned on what he would do if he ever got this far. Stupid of him, in hindsight. What good fanboy doesn’t have a flowchart of this kind of thing ready? He had flowcharts for a lot of other things, even. Mostly for work and a couple projects, and that one tabletop game he swore he was gonna run for Vaughn and Yvette sometime, but never did.

“Ok, ok,” he thought to himself. “What’s step one here?” He racked his brain. He considered posting a question about it online to one of the many Jack fanclub forums and chatrooms he was involved with, but he was sure nobody would believe his story. Maybe he could ask Vaughn? No, he was in a video call in his room, he could hear him talking. Besides, he’d probably try and talk him out of this all. Wait. He’d texted him right after their… could he call it a date? He wanted to call it a date. He checked his messages excitedly. His hands were shaking, his heart racing.

No reply.

Rhys’s heart sank. Maybe Jack had forgotten? Maybe he was busy? He was a busy man with a lot of responsibilities, after all. But he hadn’t even opened it. Either that or he didn’t have read receipts on, which was entirely probable. Rhys knew it was probably just because he was busy, but part of him was telling him, “he’s forgotten about you already.” Because he was a nobody. A rookie data miner. Sure, his department had been getting amazing numbers recently, but why him specifically? There was no good reason. None at all. He stared at his ECHO device. He didn’t dare double text Jack. That would totally come off as desperate, right? He didn’t want to come off as obsessed. He looked up at the poster of Jack pinned to the drywall above his bed. To the Jack pinup calendar on the wall beside his computer desk, the Hyperion stickers plastered all over his laptop, the framed, signed poster he had framed on the wall right above his computer that he’d shelled out a few months' savings on. Maybe he _was_ obsessed. Maybe he _was_ desperate.

By the time Rhys was heading back home, Jack and Tim had finished their frisky office escapades. Jack took his double by the waist and kissed him on the neck, and together they made their way to the fast travel station, Tim’s hair dishevelled, his jaw and knees sore. He stared listlessly out the window at the ships flying to and fro as Jack held onto his waist. He was thinking about his encounter earlier in the day. Had that kid bought his acting? He sure hoped so. He was so cute, he’d have gone out with him again in a heartbeat. The way he’d looked at Tim, in such starstruck reverence, made his heart do somersaults. He envied Jack for that kind of thing. Nobody would have given him the time of day if he didn’t look exactly like Jack. He wished people liked him for himself, but he’d settle for people liking him for someone else. He wasn’t that picky.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, handsome?” Jack asked, giving his double a little squeeze around the middle.

“Uh, you?” Tim said. It was half-true, at least.

“Of course you are, babe. Let’s get goin’, shall we?” Jack activated the fast travel station and faster than you could say “identity crisis,” the two of them were in the entryway of Jack’s apartment.

Really, the word “apartment” was grossly underselling it. The property took up the better part of a floor on Helios, with amenities ranging from a pool to a garden lit with artificial sunlight to, of course, Jack’s huge bedroom, where Tim assumed they were headed, like usual. He was gently guided in another direction, though, towards the kitchen, where he realized that he was, in fact, _really_ hungry.

“Oh! What’s for dinner, Jack?” Tim asked, a bit excited.

“God, I dunno, let’s see.” He rummaged around in the fridge. “What’d you have for lunch?”

“A sandwich, what’d you have?” Tim said, nonchalantly. He did technically have a sandwich. And a cocktail, but that wasn’t food so it didn’t count.

“A pot of coffee and some adderall.” Jack responded as if that were normal, which for him it was.

“Jeez, Jack, you must be starving by now. Do you want me to just order a pizza or something?”

“No, I’m good, I’ll just whip something up. Ooh, we have salmon!” Jack didn’t sound grumpy or tired, despite coasting on coffee and drugs since breakfast.

“I like salmon. We could--”

“Grab me some tin foil and the whatsitcalled.” Jack snapped his fingers, trying to remember what a pepper grinder was. “Lemon pepper and salt thingy.”

“This one?” Tim plucked a completely different seasoning mix out of the spice cabinet.

“No-- wait, actually, that’s a good idea. Grab the cayenne and-- do we have any cilantro?”

“Jack, I don’t, uh… really like spicy food.” Tim felt like he’d had this conversation with Jack at least twice in the last month.

“It won’t be _that_ spicy, pumpkin, it’s just for flavor.” Jack said, trying to sound reassuring. Tim didn’t buy it.

“That’s what you said about the chili, and I nearly drank a whole gallon of milk!” Tim whined, his mouth already having flashbacks.

“That time I was fuckin’ with ya’, though. Where are the _damn_ limes?”   
“Fruit bowl, uh, unless you had some in there…” Tim hesitantly plucked a couple limes from the stainless steel bowl on the counter overflowing with shelf-stable fruits and a handful of potatoes.

“I’ll take those. Trust me, you’ll like this.” Jack said, genuinely meaning it. He clasped his hands around Tim’s, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Alright, is there anything you need me to do or can I go--”

“Slice and juice the limes, then zest them. Grab some yogurt and mix it with-- the plain yogurt, not your yogurt, I mean. Mix it with some salt n’ pepper and the lime zest. Wash the limes first, like, before you juice them.” Jack rattled off rapidly.

“Uh… okay?” Tim said, standing there, bewildered, with the limes in his hand.

“Then put some of the juice, like, a spoonful, into the yogurt.” Jack said, mimicking stirring as he talked.

“I don’t follow.” Tim said. What did any of this have to do with fish?

“You’re making the thing that keeps it from being too spicy, babe. Probably should add some cilantro to that, too, that would be good. Tell you what, just cut up the salmon into portion sizes and put that seasoning stuff on there.”

“Alright, that sounds simple enough.” Tim said, already fussing over what knife he was supposed to use. Long…. slicey one? Seemed good, right?

“Tim, that’s a fillet knife. Use the carving knife.” Jack pointed to one of the other, different long slicey knives on the magnet strip. Jack had about 27 different knives just here in the kitchen, and Tim had no idea which ones were which. He grabbed the indicated knife and sliced the fish into serving-sized portions, taking a look over at Jack, who was stirring the shit out of the yogurt sauce. He dipped a pinkie into it and tasted it with an “mmm,” then whacked his spoon clean in the sink. Tim hesitantly sprinkled on what he estimated was a good amount of seasoning, before Jack emerged from the spice drawer with about 6 other things and directed Tim to chop cilantro.

A little while later, Jack had concocted a fish dish that smelled, in Tim’s opinion, amazing, along with some sauteed asparagus. Tim had been relegated to couscous-stirrer for the last few minutes. That was done, though, the food was all cooked and plated and all that, and they were sitting at the huge, black glass-topped table in Jack’s mood-lit dining room, listening to some ambient house music that Jack liked over the sound system.

“Looking forward to tomorrow night, cupcake?” Jack asked in between bites.

“What?” Tim asked. He was totally spacing on what was apparently happening tomorrow night.

“Cocktail party, remember? Celebrating the sweet new sniper rifle line? Maliwan reps will be there, so you’re there to minimize the chance of me getting stabbed.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that! What exactly do I have to do, again?”

“Talk to people, look handsome, stay in character. I’m giving the little speech thing, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, alright? I trust you not to fuck things up. You’re good at being me.”

“Aww, you really think so? I do my best.” Tim said, bashfully sipping from his drink.

“Oh, Tim, you do great. It amazes me how well you do, sometimes.” Jack said, smiling warmly and blanketing his hand over Tim’s with a reassuring squeeze.

“Th-thanks, Jack. That means a lot to me.” Tim said, smiling back. Sometimes Jack could be so sweet.

“You’re just like me, sometimes. I like that a lot. I just… I like that. A _lot._ ” Jack shook his head with a dreamy sigh.

“You’ve really fallen hard for yourself, haven’t you, Jack?” Tim teased.

“Oh yeah. And you’re almost as good as the real me.” Jack took up Tim’s hand and kissed it. “That’s why I love you so much.” He guided Tim’s hand under his chin to touch him.

“I know.” Tim said, sounding more aloof than he meant to. He took Jack’s hint and caressed his artificial face, leaning in to give him a kiss with an expression that he hoped didn’t belie his conflicted emotions. He wanted to love Jack as much as Jack said he loved him, but he just didn’t. He loved him plenty, he needed him, he couldn’t live without him, but that last bit wasn’t really a love thing. He _was_ Jack, he couldn’t just run off and be himself, not ever, probably. He needed Jack’s guidance and example to be a better Jack, and he needed to be Jack to survive. But that was beginning to complicate things. He was _such_ a good Jack that now a fan of Jack’s was in love with him… and he was pretty sure he loved him back. He wasn’t sure, though. It had only been one date, but he couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was so different to how he felt about Jack. There was no sense of danger when he thought about him. No anxiety. Maybe it was love at first sight, or maybe he was building up an idea of the kid that just wasn’t realistic, like a romantic fetishization of a guy he’d barely even met. Okay, now he was anxious again. He sipped his drink, something gingery with tequila that Jack had put the rest of the lime juice into, hoping to numb his emotions a bit.

“You wanna watch a movie, Tim? You look sad.”

“I’m not, I’m just tired. I’m okay.” Tim said, too dispassionately for Jack to entirely believe him.

“We can go into the lounge and watch whatever you want, baby, it’s up to you.”  
Tim silently dug into his salmon. He was still thinking about lunch. He’d never really felt quite that same way about someone before, except _maybe_ Jack. He didn’t even remember the guy’s name, and his heart was still aflutter about him. He really wished he’d gotten his number, too. Now wasn’t a good time to check his messages, though. He was eating, and Jack was still there. Ever present, it seemed, in his life. He had eyes everywhere; although it seemed like he’d been spying on him way less than he used to. Maybe Jack trusted him? It was a sweet thought. It made Tim smile. Tim smiling made Jack smile. Jack, in all his chaotic, constantly-needing-to-multitask energy, was satisfied in only a few simple activities, and looking at Tim’s handsome face, especially when he was smiling, was one of them. He just looked so genuine and sweet, a distinctly different vibe to Jack himself when he’d pose and smile for himself in the mirror in the mornings and all. Jack was just obsessed with Tim. The way he juxtaposed Jack’s larger-than-life image with so much naive innocence… and his looks and voice and skill at being Jack weren’t exactly a turn-off either. Jack just gazed at his beloved double as he wolfed down his dinner with gusto.

“I told you you’d like it.” Jack said, smugly.

Tim responded with a mouth-full, overly enthusiastic “mhm!!”. Jack, he’d gladly concede, was a fantastic cook. It seemed like he was good at everything he did. Programming, engineering, on-the-fly planning, people skills, fighting, interior design, sex… even his shitty stick figure drawing skills were above the curve as far as low-effort drawings went. Tim felt like he and Jack were just on two wholly different levels of being. Where Tim felt like he was barely passing at the things he did, even the ones he was good at, Jack was just… a force of nature. Good at everything, for no discernible reason. Was it luck? Confidence? Did he just practice a lot while Tim wasn’t looking? Did he download all his skills into his neural port? Tim didn’t know. It kind of bummed him out, or pissed him off, or something. He just wanted to be good at shit like Jack was.

“Hey, can I give the fish skin to the cats?” Jack interrupted Tim’s ruminations.

“They can have a little bit of the fish skin, as a treat.” Tim said, wondering where the cats were, anyways. They were usually all over dinner prep. He took his dishes to the kitchen to put them in the dishwasher, and went to look for them as Jack cut up the fish skin and disappeared into a hallway.

“Buster! Pspspsps!” Tim called out, searching the lounge, then the living room, then the bedroom, where not only was Jack hanging out half-naked on the bed, but Buster, Tim’s younger cat, was as well, cuddling up to Jack and resting his little kitty feet on the keypad of Jack’s laptop. Tim couldn’t help but smile.

“Found him.” Jack said, smugly. “Morgan’s in the closet somewhere, I saw her hide in there when I came in.”

“Of course she is.” Tim said, shaking his head. Morgan LeFur, Tim's older cat, was a rescue from Pandora, and she was shy as all hell. 

“How’d you find him so fast?” Tim took a seat on the bed next to Jack, who was looking at a blueprint of some sort.

“Shook your treat bag. Also, Buster loves fish skin, apparently.”

“Aww, he knows it does wonders for his fur. Isn’t that right my widdle baby boy? Who’s a pretty kitty? It’s you! You’re my handsome widdle son.” Tim said, scooping the slightly chubby grey tabby into his arms. Buster meowed, rubbing his face against Tim’s face as he gave him little kisses. “You smell like fishy, yes you do, mister Fluffster Buster 3000.”

“Don’t call him by his full name, he’ll think he’s in trouble.” Jack said, chuckling. Tim got so sappy with his cats, it was funny to him. Jack loved them too, but Tim was downright mushy with the kitties.

“Aww, you’re not in twouble, baby.” Tim gave Buster a little hug. Cats were so pure, so good. They never gave Tim hassle. They never made him do stuff he didn’t want to. They killed the stuff they wanted dead, instead of making Tim do it. Although these days, Jack seemed like he was doing that more and more. Both killing people himself and wanting people dead. It was a bit concerning, but Tim was smart enough not to question it too much. Not when he _lived_ with the guy, for sure. He just sat down on the bed beside him, cuddling his cat.

Soon, it was late at night. The artificial sunlight panels in the headboard had long since cycled through their “sunset” mode and were now off, leaving only the light of Tim and Jack’s respective browsing devices to light the room. Tim had changed into his silky yellow pajamas, whereas Jack had just stripped naked and cuddled under blankets, going from work follow-ups to watching god-knows-what with his headphones on, laughing sporadically. Tim looked at his ECHOtablet, listlessly scrolling through notifications from group messages and app alerts until he saw a text from an unknown number. That was weird. Even weirder is that it wasn’t a scam or a phish.

<Hey Jack it’s me, Rhys 😊> It had been sent a bit after noon.

<who???> He texted back. Who the hell was Rhys? Tim was so tired. He could hardly remember all the hands he’d shaken today. Almost immediately there was a ping, a reply.

<I just said who it is lol>

<Remember from lunch? You said I could come up and see your pretty face sometime? 😘> Oh. OH, HIM! He’d forgotten his name. He’d had such a lovely time! He quickly updated the contact.

<oh yeah the cute guy!!!>

<my bad lol>

<i forgot to write down your name but now i have it 😈> Saucy, Tim thought to himself. 

<Sorry its late, I probs shouldn’t bug u too much>

<Ur busy tomorrow I’m sure>

<Wait do u work on saturdays?> Rhys’s message queried.

<im free for most of the day just not the evening>

<cocktail party babyyyyy 🍾🍾🍾> Tim texted back. He wasn’t bullshitting, he really did have to double as Jack for at least some of the party. They were both going. Tim couldn’t even drink more than 3 drinks there. He wasn’t actually looking forward to it that much, but Jack definitely was.

<Sounds like a fun time>

<Wish I could be there lol> Rhys could hardly imagine what that would be like. Partying with Jack? What a dream.

<with me?>

<or just for the open bar hehe> Tim wished he could look forward to more of that.

<Would it be weird to say I’d be there for u mostly>

<uwu> Rhys hoped that would soften the awkwardness a bit.

<nah everyone’s there for me> Tim texted.

<im very important and famous and everyone loves me yknow>

<of friggin course id have fans there>

<lol>

<Yeah but like> Rhys started. And kept typing. And stopped typing. And started again. For like five minutes.

<i gotta go to bed soon babe spit it out already>

<I want to date you, Jack.> Rhys finally wrote.

<Unless you don’t wanna> he immediately followed up.

<Is that weird am I being weird> Rhys’s hands were sweating. He never expected to get this far. Not in a million years. He was damn near sexting Handsome Jack.

<no lol ur really cute> Tim replied, his own heart beating fast. He hated to use his assumed identity like this but… At least he was being honest about Rhys being cute. He’d be stupid not to take this opportunity, right?

<Am I taking shit too fast tho?> Rhys was nervous. This all felt awkward, or too good to be true.

<idc babe i was gonna ask u if u didn’t first>

<i mean we did basically go on a date>

<True>

<ill text u tomorrow i gotta sleep> Tim admitted, yawning hard in real life.

<Sorry, GN> Rhys texted back. He wasn’t sure if that was sincere, or if he really was putting Jack off. Still, he was psyched. Jack seemed to be reciprocating his feelings. Maybe. All this from a chance encounter, imagine that. Rhys’s mind raced, his heart even more so. He peered up to the Jack poster on his ceiling. It was dark, his apartment windowless, but he could see it from the light of his phone, until it dimmed, and eventually went dark, as Rhys was lost in thought. Thoughts about Jack. About kissing him, being with him, what could be in their future… maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He snuggled into bed, hugging a pillow. He liked to imagine it was Jack. Maybe Jack was thinking about him, too.

Tim rolled over, making sure he hadn’t missed anything important, shut his tablet off, and went to go to sleep.

“Tim, who’zat you’re texting with?” Jack interrupted, drearily. Tim’s heart jolted. He had to think of an excuse, fast.

“I uh… met someone today who needed some help. I was just following up, turns out they’re awake too. I told them I'm going to sleep. Which I am. G‘night, babe.”

“Alright, cool cool.” Jack yawned. “C’mere, daddy needs cuddles.” Jack wriggled sleepily over to Tim and wrapped his arms posessively around him, resting his chin on Tim’s shoulder. He quickly fell asleep, while Tim laid awake, realizing he was kind of stuck now. Was he cheating? He and Jack weren’t exactly official, but part of him felt guilty, felt treacherous. He was kind of the only one who hadn’t fucked Jack over yet. Maybe with a couple exceptions. Besides, Jack really, _really_ liked him. Probably to a dangerous degree. Tim turned over and wrapped his arms around Jack, burying his face in his faceclaim’s chest and trying his best to doze off.


	3. Coattailgating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been a really long time coming, I haven't been in the greatest mental state with covid and all that going on. Apologies to anyone who may have been waiting on this chapter. I'll try to do better about posting.

That night, Tim could barely sleep. He kept waking up, feeling pangs of anxiety about this or that. When was Jack’s alarm gonna go off? Surely it was only 5 minutes off. Better try to sleep anyways. Bad dream, need to snuggle Jack to get back to sleep. Guilty feelings. More guilty feelings. Fear of rejection. Fear of Jack. Heart pounding. Tossing and turning. Waking up to the bed empty. Tim whined audibly.

“What’s up, babe? I gotta get to work.” Jack whispered. He was still there, buttoning up his vest in the light of his alarm clock. 4:27 am, and the alarm light was off. He must have woken up before it beeped and switched it off.

“Something up, Jack?” Tim asked, concerned for some reason.

“No, what’s up with you?” Jack responded, a bit confused. Nothing was up.

“Bad dream. Sorry. I’ll go back to sleep.” Tim yawned and cuddled back into the blankets.

“Aww, kitten. It’s just a dream, it’ll be alright. Not a night terror, right?”

“That’s more your thing.” Tim said, sleepily.

“Just making sure.” Jack planted a kiss on Tim’s maskless forehead and tousled his hair. “Sleep well, alright? I wanna see you in my office in a couple hours. Alarm set and everything?”

Tim checked his own clock, not yet noticing the “SAT” in the corner.

“Uh-huh. Have fun at work, Jack.” Tim mumbled.

“You know I will.” Jack said, shooting a finger pistol at his sleepy double as he opened the door. Buster dashed into the room and made a beeline for his cat-dad and settled down on Jack’s vacant pillow.

“Aww, you two have a good nap. See ya at 7.”

Tim made a sleepy noise of affirmation as he snuggled his maskless face up to his fuzzy friend. Buster purred, and before Tim knew it, he was waking up to a beeping alarm, Buster was dozing on his chest, and it was 6:45 am.

Tim quickly checked his messages. Nothing worth reporting. Maybe Rhys had forgotten about him. He hated to imagine it, but maybe it would save him a lot of trouble. He stared at their message history, it was so brief, but they’d connected, he could tell. At least he hoped they had. It was just a shame, he thought, he couldn’t possibly like him for himself. He was just there because he thought he was Jack. He had to tell him. But he knew he couldn’t handle the rejection, the pain. His fingers hovered over the virtual keyboard. Was he allowed to give a good morning text? That would be weird, right? Would it be off-putting? Would he come off as confident, or creepy? Would-- oh. Rhys was typing.

<Good morning handsome 😘> Another winky face. These kids and their emojis.

<u 2 ;)>

<gtg tho, busy!!> Tim was simultaneously texting and putting on socks.

<lol oops. Sorry! ❤️❤️❤️> Three hearts.  _ Three _ hearts. What did that mean? Was that code for something specific? Something sexual? Maybe he was overthinking. Besides, he needed to get dressed. He threw on his clothes, checked Buster and Morgan’s auto-feeders and water dishes, chugged half a pot of coffee, and grabbed a cold pop tart. Breakfast of champions, right there. He almost had to go right then at that exact moment. Good thing he could fast travel.

He heard his tablet ping. He had to check it. “Image attached.” Oh boy. It was Rhys, in just a shirt and socks and  _ maybe _ underpants? He couldn’t tell. But it seemed like it was mostly a picture of his cat.  _ His cat. _ He had a  _ cat. _ Hell yeah.

<He says hi too.> The image was captioned. 

<he’s baby omg> Tim couldn’t help himself. Cats were his one true weakness.

<nice sock garters btw>

<nerd 😘> Man, was he ever a sucker for hot nerds. He and Jack both, actually.

Rhys was texting for like thirty more seconds, then another image appeared. Now, what the  _ hell _ were those?

<Shirt garters too lol> Rhys’s next picture was of said shirt fasteners clinging to his shapely legs. His bright yellow Hyperion boxer briefs peeked out from under his half-striped, and apparently very well-secured shirt. Sexy, but… what the hell even  _ were  _ shirt garters?

<dude what> Tim messaged, laughing to himself.

<lmao>

<I like feeling secure 😠>

<Jerk>

<just wear bondage gear under there at this point lol> Tim joked. That’s what Jack would say, right?

<Bold of you to assume I’m not 😏> Rhys replied. Now Tim was blushing.

<kdjsfhjkd> Tim responded.

<damn u got me there pumpkin>

<I’m jk lmao> Rhys texted.

<Unless…? 🤔🤔🤔>

<👀> Tim replied, then immediately regretted it. He was in a bit of a rush. 

<fr i gotta go tho>

<nice cat>

<I thought u said u were free today though?? 😕> Rhys’s face was sad in real life, too. Shit, that’s right! Wait-- it was Saturday, why had Jack called him in? For crying out loud, it was his day off.

<something came up> Tim admitted.

<ttyl>

Tim’s heart sank. Maybe this was it. Maybe-- shit, he was like 3 minutes late. What did Jack even want from him? 

“Heh-hey, there’s my favorite body double! Or am  _ I  _ really the double? You’ll never know, right?” Jack laughed as he announced Tim’s arrival into the office as he stepped in. Two people Tim had seen before but couldn’t recall exactly who they were stood around the office. Wilhelm was there too.

“Hah! Does it really matter? We both have guns.” Tim said, shrugging with a smirk.

“No, seriously, they all know you’re the double this time, it’s fine.” Jack said, patting Tim on the back as he approached the desk. Wilhelm nodded silently.

“What’s uh, what’s all this about, then?” Tim said, gesturing to the suits and Wilhelm, quickly trying to change the subject.

“Pre-party brunch! Catered. In here. I got us bruschetta and mimosas and all that good shit.”

“But it’s Saturday. Brunch is a sunday thing. At least tell me there’s cantaloupe?” Tim whined.

“Of course there’s cantaloupe, it’s friggin’ brunch, dum-dum!”

“So... where  _ is _ the brunch?” Tim asked. There were tables out, the fancy ones Jack rolled out for meetings, and a smattering of chairs, but no food.

“It  _ should  _ be here by now. Don’t you worry, kitten, I’ll have a word with the caterers.” Jack said, bristling. The  _ audacity  _ of them to be late.

“Alright, just don’t shoot  _ too  _ many people, alright? Haha!” Tim’s laugh didn’t sound as nervous as he was. Sounded perfectly humorous.

Shortly after everyone got to watch Jack screaming down the phone at some poor food service worker, the food was toted in and set up on the table by a parade of loader-bots. Little breakfast-y hors d'oeuvres on plates, premixed cocktails and champagne in ice buckets, and an omelette station. Tim made a beeline for omelettes. Jack made a beeline for Tim.

“What’d you want, Timtams? I don’t want you starting a fire in front of all these folks.” He said, swooping in to “help” Tim.

“Uh, bacon-onion-spinach with um, cheese, please?” Tim said, pointing to the bacon bits.

“No ham?” Jack said, giving Tim a look.

“I don’t need ham.” Tim said. He didn’t want to take up all the toppings.

“You’ll love it!” Jack insisted, already heaping ham into the fixins he’d gathered for his double.

“Alright, I’ll try with ham.” Tim conceded. Ham wasn’t so bad.

“Fantastic.” Jack said, immediately getting to making his own omelette with every kind of meat on offer, plus onions and cheese. Tim, sure that Jack could handle himself with the hot plate and omelette pan, wandered off to chat with Wilhelm. They didn’t get to talk much these days, definitely not with Tim out of character.

“What’cha got there, Wil?” Tim said, looking at the very large slice of quiche lorraine on the disproportionately small plate in Wilhelm’s big hand.

“Quiche.” Wilhelm replied, scanning the rest of the spread.

“Oh yeah? Looks pretty good, what’s in it?” Tim said, noticing the rest of the quiches. Broccoli and onion looked pretty good right about now, but that’d be a lotta egg all at once for him.

“Bacon. That’s all I care about.” Wilhelm piled some bacon-wrapped something-or-others with toothpicks in them on top of his slice of quiche.

“There’s uh, there’s bacon over here.” Tim gestured to a big platter of crispy rashers.   
“Nice.” Wilhelm lumbered over to the bacon, piling it onto his dainty little plate. 

“You gonna be at the thing tonight, man?” Tim asked, plucking a piece of toast from a platter and spreading some bruschetta onto it.

“Yeah.” Wilhelm nodded.

“You excited? There’s supposed to be an open bar.” If Tim couldn’t get smashed himself, he’d at least live vicariously through others.

“No.” Wilhelm groused, moving on to the drinks table.

“Aw, why not?” Tim followed along behind, eyeing up the offerings. Peach sangria looked pretty good right about now.

“Nobody ever fights at those things.” Wilhelm said with a huff, filling a cup with water, knocking it back, and filling it a second time.

“Ah, yeah, that’s true. It wouldn’t be much of a party if everyone was fighting, though, would it?” Tim said. He’d really rather not have to catch bullets this weekend.

“You’re wrong.” Wilhelm insisted.

“Hey Wilhelm, are you givin’ my body double a hard time?” Jack was suddenly right between the two ex-Vault-Hunters.

“No, Jack.” Wilhelm said, matter of factly. He was right, why would it be wrong to say it?

“Is he givin’ you a hard time, Tim?” Jack said, placing a comforting, if overbearing, hand on his double’s shoulder.

“No, he’s just… being Wilhelm. You get enough bacon there, fella?” Tim laughed it all off, inspecting the tower of bacon-y breakfast bits teetering precipitously in Wilhelm’s robotically-stabilized hand.

“The plate is too small.” Wilhelm grumped.

“Aw. There’s always seconds, man, it’s alright!” Tim gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Hey Timbo! Your omelette's done!” Jack paraded the eggy creation over to his double, plucking a couple pieces of bruschetta toast, a slice of some small, blue-fleshed space melon, and a couple rashers of bacon off their platters and piling them onto Tim’s plate. “Eat up, handsome. We got a long day ahead of us.”

“Wait, what? Whatd’you mean?” Tim sputtered. He had definitely not planned for a full day of Jack today.

“We’re pregaming, baby! Spa day, how’s that sound?” Jack raised a glass of champagne in celebration. Usually, Tim loved spa days, even if they were with Jack. Today, he really would rather be doing… other things. Things with Rhys. Ideally just hanging out at home, watching movies or something. 

“That sounds great, Jack.” Tim ceded, sufficiently enthusiastically.

“Alright! Here, have a drink! Cheers!” Jack quaffed his flute of champagne and grabbed a couple mimosas.

“No, no, I probably shouldn’t be drinking this early in the day, right?” Tim said, a bit too sheepishly.

“Come onnnn, pumpkin, live a little! Just one?”

“Fine, I’ll bite.” Tim was, in reality, happy to have an excuse to drink. He just didn’t want everyone to think he was.

“No, no, you don’t bite it, it’s a drink.” Jack joked, handing a glass to Tim. He’d drink it and the three more wine cocktails he’d have that morning a little too quickly.


End file.
